


happy cows

by deniigiq



Series: Dumpster Fires Verse [28]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Cats, Gen, Pets, Team Bonding, Team Red, Team as Family, at least thats what Matt thinks they are, auditory hallucinations, happy sounds, this is basically peter is snow white the to umpteenth power, wolf spiders? but like not really at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 09:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: The kid pouted and glared at him before hunkering back down. The cat purred and chirped to welcome him back. And he.Chirped.Back.Wade was dying.He—someone—he needed to do something. Tell someone. Holy shit. Holy shit. No one would believe him.





	happy cows

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL. This is ruining my life, I have reading to do. But then these anons came out of nowhere on tumblr and did this shit: http://deniigi.tumblr.com/post/182575528117/ so now here I am trying to get work done with this buzzing around inside my brain, C'MON. 
> 
> Anyways. Wolf Spiders purr. Ergo. Well, yes, exactly what you're thinking. 
> 
> Some references to medical personnel, anxiety, and auditory hallucinations below (nothing serious or detailed though), so do what you need to to keep yourselves safe.

“Wade, can you do a headcheck for me?”

Wade damn near dropped his slurpee.

Red? A headcheck? _Willingly?_

The situation was grave indeed. Although, now that he mentioned it, Red _had_ been pressing knuckles into the underside of his chin and shaking his head all night. Wade set the slurpee safely aside for the time being.

“How many fingers?” he asked, holding some up in Red’s direction.

“Three.”

“How many fingers?”

“Seven.”

“How many fingers?”

“One”

“What day is it?”

“Friday.”

“What year is it?”

“Two thousand and— Wade, does Peter purr?”

Oh _shit._ They needed a hospital. He stood up and started squinting for the closest one to their rooftop. There was always Metro Gen to the west, but the kid’s aunt was there and she might start freaking out if Red kept on talking nonsense in her waiting room. Red didn’t follow him up, he seemed to be getting even more distressed down there. He pressed his hands against his jaw and grimaced.

“I’m crazy,” he said.

“No, no, bud. You’re gonna be just fine,” Wade soothed automatically.

“I’m fucking insane. I’ve finally lost it. Hey, you think if I keep going down this path, I’ll be able to hear the sound of the universe?”

Nope. Because Wade was gonna get him good and sedated first.

“Wade,” Red murmured on the verge of actual fucking tears, “Am I gonna die? Is this how I die?”

Fuck it, Metro Gen it was. Red allowed him to pull him up by his arm and head off in that direction.

 

 

Wade thought the staff at Metro Gen was very understanding about him arriving in full costume and handing his equally costumed buddy into their arms. Red didn’t want this, but he was sincerely on the edge of a breakdown by the time they got there, so Wade let him clutch at his fingers while one of the ER nurses did another headcheck with him in the stuffed-full waiting room.

People were staring, but you know what, y’all? Sometimes your neighborhood vigilante has a fucking nervous breakdown like the rest of youse. Get over it. He mugged their way and half the room dropped their eyes and covered their children’s. He knew immediately that the other half saw this as their chance and whipped out their phones to document this for posterity. He mugged their way next.

“I'm having psychosis,” Red pleaded with the nurse.

“No, honey,” she assured him like a true professional. “You’re just fine, but I do think you’re having a bit of an anxiety attack right now. You wanna take some deep breaths with me?”

“I swear I heard it.”

“Heard what, hon?”

Red cringed away into Wade’s shoulder. Wade allowed this as he was busy running interference with all these damn spectators. He could see a phone of out of the corner of his eye over there. He made a note to smash it on the way out. Red gave him a little tug to get his attention and he remembered why he was there to begin with and leaned over a little bit.

“Is she gonna drug me if I tell her the truth?” Red whispered into his neck so the gal in front of them couldn’t hear it.

Yeah, buddy. She sure was. That was kind of her job.

“Nah,” he lied. Red recoiled away from him in betrayal.

“I don’t _want_ to be like this,” he whimpered at Wade. “Is this because of the last troop? They deserved it, though. Those were _children_. _Children_ , Wade. I can’t—do I—should I go to confession? You think that would—you think is some kind of curse from God? Is it from God, Wade?”

Cool, reaching 70% panic now, with a mental break just on the horizon. Wade reached out and carefully pressed on Red’s shoulder until he was sitting properly in the seat again. The nurse had plastered on her ‘no, this is fine,’ face in anticipation of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen requiring security and restraints very soon.

“Don’t think it’s from God, pal,” Wade told him gently. “Pretty sure it’s from all the head trauma. Why don’t we do this? Let’s be good and talk to uh, Marie. Let’s talk to Marie some more, yeah?”

Red snapped up into standing with his hands clutched over the sides of his head.

“What if it’s from God? What if this is for my sins? What if—"

Yeah, yep. This was exactly what no one wanted. Wade stood up with him and so did Nurse Marie with bottomless patience. Nurse Marie was chill. Nurse Marie could stay. Wade apologized to her quietly as he tried to wrangle Red back into a less agitated state.

“He’s not normally like this,” he promised her.

“Oh, no, I’m sure,” she said lightly, as though Wade was not in the middle of dragging Red back into the seat by his wrists. “He seems very nice. Do you spend a lot of time in church, hon?”

She had Red’s attention. He shut up and nodded.

“What church do you go to?”

Red was not an idiot, even in his panic and didn’t answer. He carried on staring in her direction in silence, waiting for validation of his new Divine Retribution theory.

“How about this, when did you last—”

“Wednesday,” Red said before she could finish.

Nurse Marie nodded encouragingly.

“Okay, Wednesday. Wow, you must be very, uh, devout—”

“I’m Catholic—do you think God did this to me?”

Nurse Marie paused and bit her lip for a moment.

“No, no, I don’t think He did,” she said soothingly, “But your buddy here, he seems to think you’ve had some head trauma recently. Did you get hit in the head or something like that lately?”

Red did not like this question and maneuvered around it like a pro.

“I got clinical depression. I’ve never had auditory hallucinations before. Is this maybe a depression thing?”

Nurse Marie paused in her tracks and looked up at Wade as if he had any more information about this. He shrugged.

“Okay, well. What kind of meds do you take for that?” she asked.

Red didn’t like this question either and started pressing himself into Wade’s arm again. Nurse Marie could read that shit like a book.

 “Are you taking your meds?” she asked.  

Red knew that every answer to that but one was gonna be the wrong one in the face of a medical professional.

“Can I go home?” he pleaded up at Wade. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I think maybe I just need to go home. I’ll go to church. I’ll sleep some more. Maybe this is a sleep thing? Maybe I haven’t slept.”

Oh, honey.  

The nurse tried a few more times to get him to say he wasn’t taking his meds like he was supposed to but didn’t have much luck. She sighed and as soon as she stood up, Red was back on his feet and trying to drag Wade with him. He wanted out.

“I don’t really want to let him go like this,” the nurse confided in Wade over Red’s struggling. “Do you know any of his meds?”

Nope.

She sighed again.

“Well, we can’t exactly make him stay, but most likely, he’s been triggered by something and he’s building it up in his head to something bigger than it is and setting off his anxiety.”

Wade didn’t know why the fuck she was telling him this. He wasn’t the guy’s handler.

“You hear that?” he asked Red. “Nurse thinks you’re blowing this shit out of proportion. As usual.”

There was some muffled snickering around the waiting room before folks remembered they were supposed to be minding their own business. Red stopped struggling for a second.

“Exaggerating?” he asked.

“That’s what she’s saying, slugger.”

“Some breathing exercises might help,” Marie said, now understanding how this relay of information worked.

“Also wants you to calm the fuck down and breathe like a human,” Wade translated.

Lookit that. He was settling down already. Wade was a miracle worker. And an imminent phone smasher. How many was that now? 9, 10? He should just send round a box for everyone to dump their electronics into before they left.

Red dropped his face and settled way down, a little sheepishly.

“So I just heard something,” he mumbled. “But I’m not crazy.”

“Not crazy, no,” Nurse Marie promised, enormously pleased with his rapid progress. “Maybe a little anxious. A little paranoid. Might have something to do with the adrenaline of running around like you do. Possibly something to do with the head trauma. Why don’t we just go ahead and schedule some scans for you just in case?”

“Over my dead body. But thanks, you’ve been super helpful. I’m not crazy. We’re leaving,” Red decided.

Oh no we aren’t. Not without all them phones.

Red yanked hard on his arm, uncomprehending of the future internet sensation the two of them would become without execution of Wade’s plan here.

The nurse tried to cover her amusement.

“Sure, okay. Well, at least take your meds,” she said, then added, “And maybe think about getting a new helmet.”

 

 

Wade now had a collection of phones and an even greater collection of signed, hastily written NDAs he was pleased to know that Red could write up in his head in an instant. He was considering having the guy help him write his will.

He wanted to leave a cactus to Nathan, but first he needed to acquire a cactus which would outlive him and his shit gardening abilities.

Peter came over, as he was wont to do these days. He didn’t even pretend he came to see Wade anymore. They both knew what he really wanted to do was play with Bella while he did Spanish homework.

Wade was tired. And old. And didn’t want to have this conversation. Dom said he was a softie. Nathan said that the kid had the exact right idea because Nathan loved Bella more than he loved anyone on their team.

They were both traitors.

As was Bella. She had come to expect Peter’s bi-weekly visits and when he failed to show for one or both of them, wandered from room to room, searching for him and chasing hopefully after Wade when he got up. It was pathetic. He told her to reel it in for the sake of their family honor, but she would not listen. She and Pete had that in common these days.

This is to say that Wade thought nothing of it when the kid came over and took up his usual spot on the floor by the far couch arm (there was a perfectly fucking good couch next to him that Wade had spent actual money on, but no. The boy always preferred the floor). In fact, Wade kind of forgot that he was even there most days, if he was honest. Weekends for Wade meant answering a fuckload of emails and setting up his hits for the week. That meant a lot of typing and calendars and remembering his damn routing number for payments. That meant, in turn, that Peter’s cat cooing tended to filter into the background noise, as was the case that time.

He got up from the kitchen island to get a drink and abruptly remembered the kid upon seeing the top of his mop over the back of the couch.

The cat was having a field day over there, basking in her vassal’s attentions. Rumbling loud enough that Wade could just about hear her all the way in the kitchen.

Spoiled. Right to the core. Ugh.

Whatever, it was a lost cause at this point.

He opened the fridge.

“Pete, you want a drink?” he asked.

“No, that’s okay, thanks,” the kid said.

Wade grabbed a can of coke and then stopped. Leaned out of the fridge.

“Peter,” he said. “Are you sure?”

Peter made a noise of confirmation.

Huh. He thought he’d heard—you know what? Okay. Sure, whatever.

He returned to the kitchen island and cracked open the can.

 

 

It was another half an hour before he looked up again and realized that something was fucking vibrating in his house. Probably the pipes. Maybe construction outside. It wasn’t really a big deal except now that he’d heard it, he couldn’t stop hearing it.

“Hey, you hear that?” he asked the couch.

Peter sniffed and his head reappeared, blinking blearily.

“Hear what?” he asked.

Wade had to put down his coke.

The noise was gone.

“Nothing,” he said, now dead focused on the top of Pete’s head. He watched it go back down to rest on the couch proper beside Bella on her favorite cushion.

No way.

No _fucking_ way.

He was not crazy, he’d taken all his meds for a whole week so far. Hadn’t missed a single day, his doc would be so proud. He was good and stable.

And that? That shit? That was purring.

“Hey Pete,” he interrupted again.

Peter jerked up again, irritable this time, caught right before dreamland.

“What?” he demanded.

Wade was going to die. He was going to die.

“Nothing,” he managed to creak out.

The kid pouted and glared at him before hunkering back down. The cat purred and chirped to welcome him back. And he.

Chirped.

 _Back_.

Wade was dying.

He—someone—he needed to do something. Tell someone. Holy shit. Holy shit. No one would believe him. Wait. No. Red would believe him.

He carefully, carefully slid off the kitchen stool and took his phone. Then he casually, casually, walked into the back bedroom and closed the door. Locked it.

 

 

“I fucking _told you_ ,” Red hissed, evidently locked in the bathroom of a restaurant. “I _told you_.”

“Okay, okay, you told me,” he hissed back. “But how do we know we both aren’t crazy? Maybe we’re both going insane. Maybe there’s been some kind of gas leak or underground supervillain releasing chemicals into our water and we’re all just morphing into giant cats, hmm? Did you think of that?”

“Dude, yeah. Like, for the last week,” Red snapped. “Fogs asked me last night if I’m a secret furry, Wade. He literally asked me that. Over dinner.”

“Dude.”

“I _know._ ”

“Okay, okay. We can deal with this. Maybe it’s a—”

“No, you shut up right now. Just shut the fuck up, I am manic, I have been manic for a week, this is making me manic. I looked it up. Wolf spiders do this. They purr. It’s a mating thing.”

Silence.

“Is Pete…trying to mate with Bella?” Wade asked.

More silence.

“No. What? No. That would be weird,” Red scoffed.

“No, obviously. You’re totally right.”

“Right? Yeah, no. Really weird. Pete wouldn’t—he wouldn’t, though, right?”

“Oh my god, should I separate them? They’re napping together on the couch—RED.”

“I don’t know?? We need a biologist, you know any biologists?”

“None who won’t abuse this information.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Just leave them there? They’re fucking chirping again, I can hear it through the door. Does Stark know about this, do you think?” Wade pleaded.

Red didn’t know. Red thought maybe, just maybe this one time they should ask him. Stark, after all, had Banner. And doctors, and possibly geneticists and therapists to help reform this child if he needed it.

“Okay, record him,” Red said. “He might not even know he’s doing it. Maybe it’s a puberty thing.”

Wade wanted to die, but okay, sure. It wasn’t like there was too much else to do.

He casually, casually unlocked the door and sauntered into his living room. Bella woke up and raised her head to greet him when he planted his feet in front of her and her sleeping subject. She made her customary little ‘mrrp?’ noise and Peter, god bless this boy, made the same noise back without lifting his head out of his arms. He kind of snuffled a little bit and settled back into sleep. Bella turned her little black and white whiskers towards him and mrrp-ed again.

Peter mrrp-ed back in his sleep.

Fuck.

That shit should have been illegal. He tapped his foot and then wandered back over to the kitchen island to rattle anxiously until Bella settled down again. After five minutes of mutual rumbling that Wade could now tell as clear as fucking day was emanating from not one chest, but two, he stood up and wandered back over to the couch with his phone out. He pressed record.

He gave Bella a pet which woke her up and started the muzzy chirping conversation all over. Then he had an idea and carefully picked Bella up and carried her into the hallway in clear view of the camera. He locked her in his room and ignored her sad meowing and returned back to the couch where Pete was still napping. He held the phone close enough that it could pick up the continued rumbling. He leaned forward himself until he was 100% positive that that shit was coming from somewhere around the kid’s upper chest, then stuffed a hand into his own ribs until his fingers were warm.

He lightly splayed the fingers right under Pete’s collarbone and nearly flinched to feel the vibrations there, they felt almost like they were radiating out from behind Pete’s clavicle. He held the phone closer to pick up the increase in volume, then decided that this was irrefutable proof and stopped recording. He went back and released the cat from her temporary prison and then went back to the kitchen island to furiously email Stark.

It didn’t take much finger-nail chewing before he got a response.

All it said was “What. The. Fuck. Is this a joke?”

Which was exactly what he said, so fair.

“Not a joke. Freaking out. Is this new?” he typed.

“This is new.” Stark seemed to write back in stiff horror.

“Is this bad?” Wade tried.

“I have no fucking idea,” Stark wrote, “But we are going to find out.”

“Should I leave him there?” Wade chicken-pecked as quietly as he could so as not to alert the kid that anything suspicious was happening. It probably didn’t matter, he was good and out, but whatever. Precautions were important.

“I mean, maybe? Doesn’t seem like it’s hurting him or the cat, so I guess? I’m gonna have Banner look at this. Give me like, an hour.”

Cool. Peter hiccupped in his sleep and Bella batted at him softly for disturbing her.

 

 

Wade opened his door that Sunday evening to the most doleful Peter he’d ever encountered. Puppy eyes cranked up to 11 and a little watery.

“Am I broken?” he asked, smashing Wade’s heart on the ground and jumping on it. “Can I still play with Bella?”

Yes, of _course_ he could still play with Bella.

Peter cradled her in silence for an entire half an hour and Wade felt like the worst person in human history.

“Pete,” he finally said, “It’s not your fault, you didn’t even know you were doing it.”

Peter didn’t look up. Bella rumbled happily in his arms and then touched her nose to his chin, sensing his distress.

“What if I do it in class?” Peter asked softly. “Do you think I do it at night, too? May never said anything. Mr. Stark wants to do a sleep test.” He rounded sad eyes on Wade again and Wade just barely kept himself from ducking behind the island to avoid them. “Is it super weird?”

No, baby boy. Not weird, just different.

“I’m already really different from everyone else,” Peter said miserably to the cat, “I don’t wanna be more different. You think I’ll just keep getting more and more like a spider? Until one day—maybe one day—”

Nope, nope, nope. Wade was not emotionally able to deal with this. He hopped over the counter and hurried over to the couch and then hauled the kid up with the cat still in his arms. He held him there. Peter stared at him wide-eyed and looked down at the ground then back up to him several times.

This was the kid’s body language for ‘put me the fuck down.’ It came out occasionally on jobs, so Wade wasn’t flying blind on this one.

Pete finally had enough of being suspended and squirmed, careful not to upset Bella in his own arms. Wade set him back down and hummed.

“Well, no purring there,” he noted. He flicked Peter’s ear and got batted at for it. “No purring here, either,” he said.

“ _Wade_.”

He took the cat. Peter yelped in betrayal. Bella was surprised but allowed herself to be fought over.

“No purring here.”

“ _Wade_.”

He flopped down on the couch and made a show of petting the cat. Bella started purring. Peter glared at both of them.

“You guys are jerks,” he announced, then made to leave. Wade snagged his backpack strap and dragged him back, awkwardly over the back of the couch, so that he crash-landed against his chest. It would never not be funny to hear the kid try to swear. He grabbed the kid and hauled him up into an uncomfortable-for-everyone-but-the-cat kind of hug and waited a few beats.

“ _WADE._ ”

“Hm, still no purring.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Guess it’s a voluntary reaction then.”

“Cats don’t purr if they’re _mad_.”

“Yeah, but do spiders?”

Peter shoved a palm against his face and wormed out of his grip haughtily.

“Not this one,” he declared, and stomped back out the door. He slammed it closed and Wade waited until he couldn’t hear his footsteps before giving Bella a few more pets.

“Well, someone’s cranky,” he told her.

 

 

Cats don’t purr when they’re mad. Nor do spiders. But Peter could purr when he was highly self-conscious and that shit was adorable. Voluntary, Wade’s ass.

They knew this because Red was interested in the new, now declared safe noise and wanted desperately to investigate it. He was having a hard time though.

He kept coming in close and tucking his ear against Peter’s chest and then leaping away like it burned him when it started to rumble a little which made Pete laugh and then try to pretend that he wasn’t. Red suspiciously came close to try again, but Peter laughed when he got within range which apparently set off the purring and Red was off again, hiding behind Wade’s bulk.

He couldn’t seem to decide if it was acceptable to his ears or not. He snuck up on Peter a few times from behind in several moves that even Wade was surprised he managed to miss, but gave himself away by skittering back away when Peter noticed him and started giggling.

The purring was evidently a happy noise.

It could be induced by Red’s ridiculous antics. It could be induced by tickling (to the kid’s devastation). It was _amazing_ because it would rumble away, even when the kid was trying to keep a straight face and tell them to knock it off, he didn’t like that.

Very cute.

Peter was a giant pout by the end of the experiments. He wasn’t cute, he told them, he was Spiderman.

Yeah, sure. Very cute.

Apparently the kid’s aunt thought so, too. She kept calling him all kind of names he did not approve of and would not have approved of, even if he’d been five years old. May cleverly used this as justification for why Pete could not have a cat. ‘You already are one,’ she told him. Smart woman. Wade adjusted her stats in his file.

 

 

The purring was especially endearing when Wade woke up from an adventure a few weeks later resulting in a handful of bullet holes in his chest and a serious lack of right arm to find Pete tucked up against his side with the cat. Both rumbling.

Dom shrugged with her hands over the two of them and said she’d tried to move them, but they were so happy where they were, she didn’t have to the heart to follow through with it. She sat on the arm of the couch and gave Wade a knowing smirk.

“He didn’t start that stuff up until he got his head on your heart,” she confided.

Ugh. Gross.

“You can admit that that’s precious, Wade Wilson.”

He could not.

“Well, Nathan did. He took a video by the way, hope you got a spare supply of dignity.”

Wow.

Okay, so purring? A weapon of mass destruction.

 

 

 


End file.
